Day 3
Soren Lazy in Customs
“Shouldn't you be working?” Harlow asked on a grunt because of the particularly sticky patch of soul mucus currently giving her a headache.
Soren sprawled on his back on a welcoming couch and flipped a page in the Eternity Guide to Life After Death. “I'm on break.”
“You've been following me for over an hour.”
“It's a long break.”
“Well, I have a lot to do and you’re playing havoc with my schedule.”
“I haven’t gotten in your way once.”
Yes, in fact, he had gotten in her way, but she could see he had no intention of moving so she’d just have to continue on as though he weren’t a barnacle on her hull until she could scrape him off. “I thought the welcoming rooms made you sick.” The mop sloshed in the bucket and voila! the sticky patch was no more. Harlow wiped her brow with the sleeve of her coveralls; she did appreciate a job well done.
“I don't seem to mind as much if someone else is doing the cleaning. Just keep spraying the room freshener and I'll be happy.”
Because she was nearly done with the room anyway, Harlow gave it another spritz. “Aahhh,” Soren said with a nod and a smile, “Tropical Sunset.”
He gestured to the Eternity Guide to Life After Death. “Have you read this yet?”
“I can't seem to push through.” She'd tried again after finding an Eternitian-English dictionary in the trash bin of her cart. It hadn't helped. Last night she dreamt the foreign letters grew fangs and chased her through Hell’s piazzas to the gilded doors of customs. She’d awoken with a jolt to find Soren glaring at her before he muttered something about the trials he had to endure, then he yanked the blankets back to his side.
“It says all human souls go through a three-stage process before admittance into Hell.”
“I know. I clean up after the first stage.” She skirted around Soren and the couch to wiped down and restock the silver beverage service behind him.
“You don't think it's odd that all human souls go through the process except you?”
She granted him, “Yes, it's odd,” but she couldn't do anything about it so, to keep her limited, and questionable, sanity she was following the head-in-the-sand approach to death. She tossed Soren an apple from the fruit bowl, “Shouldn't you already know how customs works?”
He caught the apple and scoffed, “I'm a handler, why would I read the EGLAD?” Then he flipped another page.
“I mean you are part human. Shouldn't you just know?” Harlow tickled the feather duster over the leaves of a potted plant.
“I've never lived as a human in Earth. I was raised as a Lakas among the Lakas.” He followed a crunching bite of the apple with, “besides, no demi-god dies a human death anyway. Our Lakas side carries more weight.”
“Lucky. I should have a home and a death of my own, instead, I'm someone else and sleeping on your couch.”
“You should be sleeping on my couch,” he said. “It wasn't delivered.”
Harlow dropped her head.
“Technically, they delivered a new couch, but it was the same one.”
“That doesn't make any sense.”
“They delivered a duplicate couch. A different, exactly the same couch that I already own.”
“But you snore.”
He looked offended. “I do not snore.”
“Up for debate.”
“Whatever. Your feet are cold.”
“Irrelevant. Stay on your side of the bed.”
“Staying on my side of the bed isn't the problem,” he grumbled while giving her a pointed and thoroughly exasperated scowl. Well, maybe if he wasn't so stingy with his blankets her feet wouldn't get cold, and she wouldn’t have to go hunting for warmth on his side of the bed, now would she? She didn't bother pointing that out because she didn't want to sink to his level.
She lifted her nose in the air and went about her cleaning.
A few minutes later Harlow finished the room and headed for the door. She had to wait for señor slowpoke and when he moseyed on over she closed the door. “I'm scheduled until 10 tonight, but I have a newbies' social club meet-n-greet at 8 and then I'm meeting friends for drinks. Can you cover for me?” She asked him as she connected her janitorial key ring to the buckle on her coveralls.
“You don't have friends.”
Harlow gasped, and then glared, “that’s just hurtful.”
He gave her a reciprocating glare. “You've been in Eternity approximately three days.” He held up three fingers to emphasize his point. “You don't have friends.”
She shrugged. “I have a scintillating personality and a ready wit. People are lined up to befriend me. Will you cover for me or not?”
“The work orders are still in my name, just leave. If Pine asks I'll tell him I had a meeting with Cyvarian.”
“I knew you hadn't okayed our trade.”
“I will. By the way,” he said, “Ormyton said the fantasy foosball team is a go. What does that mean?”
Harlow stilled, not liking Soren's familiarity with Mr. Steiv. “How do you know Ormyton?”
“He's my kiosk neighbor.”
“Hanna is your kiosk neighbor.”
“No, Hanna is the neighbor for whatever kiosk you had. This morning I had season tickets to the Eternity Gladiator Games then I traded with Norg and now I have kiosk #2.”
Harlow couldn't believe it. In customs two days and he was already in the top three. “Are you kidding me?”
“Have you ever watched a minotaur and a cyclops bare-knuckle F each other up? It's awesome. Trust me, Norg is very happy with his temporary drop in kiosk status. You should stop by the new place sometime, more leg room, better view, closer to the cafeteria and candy machines. It's cushy.”
Harlow grunted and pushed her cart away.
He chuckled and said, “No one likes a jealous bear, sunshine.”
She barely resisted the urge to flip him off.
Seriously.
Barely.
In the Club
That night dance music blared and the giant dance floor in the center of the building writhed with neon lit dancers. From his place at the bar, Soren had a clear view and he watched Harlow wind her way through the crowd to his side. To her standard prissy lawyer uniform, she'd added a lighted halo above her blonde head and wispy, feathery wings strapped to her back.
“Are you following me?” she asked over the pulsating beat.
He took the time to take a drink before answering her because he didn't want his laughter bursting out. When he had it under control he said, “You wish.”
She smiled.
“What are you doing here?” He leaned in close to ask.
“I told you I was meeting friends,” she said next to his ear. “Rehan and the other junior celestials are celebrating the completion of their first semester.” She pointed to a group of women throwing a party in the VIP section. “I don't understand why they're here,” she continued, “and not in heaven. They're angels, right?”
He made finger quotes as he said the word, “Heaven” and explained, “is Elysium and it's just an exclusive territory of Eternity. Nothing particularly special about it other than the upscale homes and shopping. As to why they are here, there are no nightclubs in Elysium as it's too highbrow for these types of shenanigans. Very pretentious. Which is funny because Celestials, in general, and Rehan, in particular, like a rollicking good party.”
“I like her,” Harlow said.
“I do, too.” He took another drink before, “you're getting awful chummy with my ex.” Not that he minded, but what the hell?
“She's nice. I'm mystified how you two survived so long. I mean she's so sweet and you're…” she shrugged.
“Go on, say it.”
“You're a grumpy pants. Putting up with you with a smile on her face is a testament to her sweet nature.”
“Bah,” he gestured her away, “what do you know?” He was a teddy bear of warmth and goodness and Rehan had her moments of sheer ferocity.
“What are you doing here?” she asked. "Shouldn't you be covering my shift in Customs?"
"I paid someone else to take your shift," he told her then he pointed to his left where his friends were flirting with a group of lovely ladies. "I wanted to go out with my friends."
“Okay,” she said. “I remember the military guy from the other day. Buddy or Bub or something.”
“Baran.”
“Could be," She said without concern and Soren grunted a laugh. God, she was such a pain in the ass.
“Who's the even bigger hottie hitting on—are those women mermaids in an indoor pond?”
His friends Baran and Mercer were indeed flirting with a bevy of mermaids. It was one of the reasons Baran liked this club. “Yes, they are. The pond is fed via an underground spring and has access to the sea.”
“Wow.” Harlow shook her head. “This place is trippy.”
Soren's lips twitched. He couldn't help it, she was such a dork in her awe of all things Eternity. It would be funny if it weren’t so disturbing. He knew Cyvarian and the Big Guys were hiding something pretty damn important about her and he couldn't help feeling like the entire mess would blow up in his face. Or maybe that was the alcohol talking.
“Are you going to introduce me to your friend over there because the horns on his head are surprisingly sexy.” She fanned her face with a cocktail napkin.
“Nope, I've no intention of introducing you. Mercer is a demi-demon and humans can't handle demons. Even half demons.”
“Oh, to be a mermaid. I don't know who's more attractive in Eternity, the men or the women.”
“Most of us are gods.”
“Rub it in.”
Soren chuckled, then relented. Most humans never got to speak to a demon, he figured it might be fun for her to do so. “Come on, I'll—”
“Oh! Hey, gotta go. Rehan is calling.”
He looked across the club and saw Rehan holding up a bottle of wine and waving Harlow over. “Your party awaits. Enjoy.”
Party All Night
“Hey! Give me 50!”
“What?”
“There's a sure thing in the sports book and I need drachma.” Harlow impatiently tapped at Soren's shoulder. “Come on!”
“Knock it off,” He batted her hand away and reached for his wallet then saw the nymph he'd been flirting with had moved on. Soren shook his head. “I don't know why I'm even bothering. I'm sleeping with you tonight,” he grumbled as he handed her money.
“What about her place?”
“They live in communal—” Soren pulled another 100 from his wallet and handed it to her. “Take a chariot home.”
Fine by her. She didn’t want to walk home in these heels anyway. Harlow took the money and rushed back to the sports book. The immense mega club consisted of a giant dance area, six separately themed bars, three chill rooms, the pond, the sportsbook, two billiards rooms, and an arcade.
She rounded the corner to the sports book and scowled. “Dammit, Soren, I missed the bet.” On one of the many screens she watched seven winged horses take to the air in a two-mile sprint. How crazy was this place! She watched her chosen aeronautical equine hold steady in the middle of the herd and felt better about missing out.
Suddenly, the volume from one of the screens blared. “In other news, American President-elect Snow-Sheridan...crackle static...still missing...crackle static.” The bartender threw a squishy toy at the device, causing it to return to a skier racing down a white slope.
“Wait!” Harlow shouted. “Put that back!” The sports book ignored her. She cursed. At this rate she'd never find out what happened to her Earth body.
Although, she guessed it really didn't matter too much at this point, did it? She was stuck here. Not that here was bad. Here was a mythology geek’s warped fantasy. Here was starting to grow on her. But, here wasn’t home. Home was in Earth doing Earth things.
The newness and excitement over a flying horse race faded. Sadly, replaced with a cold serving of “reality.” Much like she'd done during her family's many political functions during her early childhood, Harlow bit hard on the fleshy part of her cheek and forced down nerves to focus on her duty.
Like it or not, she had a job to do. Dead or not, she was going to do it. As stupid as it was, she'd see it through to the end. She was just about to square her shoulders and march off to see to her responsibilities when three junior celestials sauntered by wearing wings, feather boas, and lit halos. They waved a greeting as they passed.
She waved back and remembered, she too, was wearing wings, a feather boa, and a lit halo. Hmmm. You know, sitting around drinking free drinks really didn't sound like such a bad thing. After all, her new job was an impossible joke, her death complicated, and her housing situation pathetic. Not only that but she'd had a major win right before her death that she hadn't yet properly celebrated. Plus, she still wasn’t one hundred percent sure this wasn’t all a delusion brought on by a sharp blow to the head. If anything, spending the night getting stupid drunk and partying like it was her birthday might be just what she needed.
Screw it! Screw Senator Lotus, screw Soren, and screw customs! Tonight, she was partying with angels.
Let the gods stop her.